Dreams and Roses.

Oh this sweet, sweet silent dream, 

when she finds her way into the woods, 

basket in hand, withering roses, 

beautiful orange and withering roses, 

and among the coldest leaves she lies,

whispers, never cries,

till sleep comes, softly does it come, 

and so it takes her,

 back to that sweet, sweet dream of hers,

that sweet, silent dream.

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♥